Learn to Fly
by angel white
Summary: Time has passed since Misery's end.. was it all truly a miracle, or just a cover for the horror yet to arrive? Some sacrifices can be made in vain, but how do the stragglers cope?
1. Meaning of Being Lonely

You Belong to Me

Learn To Fly

__

One - The Meaning of Being Lonely

: -: -: -: -: -:

Life goes on, as it never ends

Eyes of stone observe the trends

They never say forever gaze

Guilty roads to the endless love

There's no control

Are you with me now?

Your every wish will be done

They tell me

: -: -: -: -: -:

Their bodies intertwined they lay together under the rumpled sheets. 

He was awake again, his sapphire eyes flickered to the ceiling as he put one arm behind his head and kept the other close to her body and leaned back, his golden hair falling in artful disarray around his head like a halo of sorts. Hardly believing that every tantalizing moment he now spent living was real. That he had finally found a reward worth living for. That after months of soul searching he knew where his soul rested. And that it wasn't a dream. 

Turning his head slightly he breathed in the scent of her hair a moment, fresh wildflowers. It was his oxygen. She was still asleep, his sleeping angel, her golden-brown hair loose in slight disarray, some framing her face and the rest spread out like waves. 

She murmured his name, still in a dream, and turned towards him. "Blue…Matt,"

"I'm not blue anymore," he said in a low whisper, his finger tracing her soft lips. "Not any more. I haven't been for three years. Not since I found you. And this time, I'm never letting you go."

Her amber eyes fluttered open slowly to meet his gaze, the strong, tender blueness. "You better not," she said in a half-teasing, half-serious manner. "Or else I just may die."

: -: -: -: -: -:

The flapping wings of the birds is what stops him in his walk, and he finds himself lost in thoughts that he had two years ago, when there was no where else for him to turn. And he would often wonder how it felt to have wings, to fly away from the earth as it had nothing left to offer him. Yet here he was, still shackled to the earth. The droplets of water caress his face as he tilts his head upward for a moment; there is an autumn drizzle, or a tease of a shower. It was a gentle cleansing, as though it knew it would be his final visit to the grave. Whatever the case, it wasn't the call for an umbrella. The sky was not heavy with thick blackening clouds which promised destruction, but the graying ones, which were present, were reflected in his solemn eyes as he resumed walking, the stems of the roses tucked neatly into his fist slightly tickling his palm.

The grass here was richer. The lush green decorating the areas of the tombstones never seemed to falter after they had taken root. It was beautiful, even if it were a cemetery. He sighed, and continued his slow pace, his eyes scanning the other stones of the dead when he knew exactly where he was going. The stone was still fairly new, it had been placed there nearly two years ago, and already grass had been already pushed through the soil upwards around it, a small clear place in front of it, where other flowers had once rested, and then deteriorated. His eyes passed over to read the now all-too familiar inscription:

Hikari "Kari" Kamiya

April 25, 1988 - January 19, 2008

__

'Whose soul departed long before she did'

He sighed and laid down the flowers, the yellow roses which she had loved so much in her short life. He was free. Free to do whatever he wanted. He stepped away from the headstone, fresh tears sparkling in his eyes, azure pools of water. It would be the last time he came to see her, to pray for her soul, the soul that perhaps once loved him. That, maybe, she found her miracle on that cold, bitter day being hit by the car in the middle of the road. To be relieved of the endless struggles and tragedy's that she herself instigated. To hope that her soul would be washed clean and she would just be Kari again, alone and free with the night. It was too late for her now.

"Goodbye, Kari." he said, his voice breaking, the words soft and sad. In his mind he was recalling some of the good times they had. When they were younger and innocent, and less apt to be manipulated by events. When it was all about being TK and Kari, the bearers of Light and Hope. The light had dwindled long ago, and he stood alone in the dimness, as the minutes turned longer, and the sun slowly passed and it became darker.

He remembered being at the funeral. The news of her death had shocked them all, especially him, when he learned how it happened. He was in fact, on his way to begin his new life but was thrust back into that place where he was when he realized he lost her, knowing he never had her in the first place. They were supposed to be forever. How they all had been so wrong. Many people were there, but he distinctively noticed all of the missing faces. Daisuke, who had died nobly, was buried the day before, and Takeru forgave him. Forgave him for loving Kari but never really having her in the first place. It was his choice to risk himself in order for the other two to survive so that Hikari's tragedy wouldn't befall them all. Taichi didn't even show for his sister's funeral [_'the bastard'_, Takeru thought acidly]. Yamato and Mimi were missing as well, and Takeru was struck with a pang of sadness. They were gone. They all were gone, possibly even dead. And he was alone, left to pick up the pieces.

He walked around in a fog on the knowledge of her death and the feeling that he would never love again. Now looking down at the roses he left on Kari's grave he gave another sigh. "I can finally move on now. I thought that I could before, but I was wrong. The illusion is completely vanished and my path is ahead of me, but to what I do not know. You're dead now and I'm still searching for my miracle." He stepped back, feeling a small weight lift from his burden as he did so, the remnants of his guilt that he had finally been able to let go. The roses a cheery color in the midst of the surrounding gloom. 

"Nice," he heard a feminine voice waft over with the mist from behind him. He whirled around to see a figure wearing a periwinkle colored raincoat, the hood drawn over the occupant's face, though a hand was already rising to remove it, and as it fell back, tendrils of purple peaked out, and the glint of glasses became visible almost instantly. They stood, staring at each other, blinking as their eyes met.

"Miyako?" He asked, a name that hadn't been on his lips for years. The woman nodded slowly, staring intently into his face. "It's nice to bump into you. I've seen you here before, visiting her. I was just visiting with Daisuke," She fell silent for a moment. "It's so hard to let go of something you've never really had,"

He had seen her at Daisuke's funeral, if only briefly, and they hadn't spoken then, if he hadn't recognized her then.

She looked down. "Those flowers are really nice, too. It adds something to the décor, something Kari would have liked. She stopped talking to me a while back though. But you would know about that. I remember the last time I saw the two of you together at the restaurant. Daisuke couldn't keep his eyes off you. _Remember_?" her voice became harsh, words slashing through the light shower, through the seeping grey mist, her eyes rose again to his face.

And for a moment he did remember, if only a small glimpse, a kiss between the two of them before that awful rainstorm. They were on a date, weren't they, and he had abandoned her to drive Kari home. He remembered feeling somewhat glad that Daisuke was occupied, with the glances that Kari was throwing over at him… her words. _'Jealous, Mr. Ishida?' _he was Ishida now, he always would be Takeru Ishida ever since his mother's decision all those months ago, years even, after she married that man… Takeru couldn't even say his name without getting chills up his spine. And yet there was more of bitterness, a harshness to Miyako's voice. _Remember_. He remembered everything now, everything except exactly who he was…and what he had become. Kari still ruled his life even though he was dust in her heart…if her heart even existed.

"What's wrong?" Takeru asked, concern flickering in his blue eyes as he continued to gaze at her, watching her eyes, as they slowly left his face and looked downward.

"You know me. I always say the wrong thing at the wrong time. There were times I envied Kari, you know," she stopped again, her eyes flickering over the headstone, mentally re-reading the inscription, sighing slightly. "They should have mentioned her being the bearer of light."

"Yeah," Takeru sighed for a moment, recalling the not so distant past, and yet that's what it was, so long ago, and then he shrugged his shoulders as he breathed again, slower. "But she really wasn't, in the end. She wasn't the Kari we all knew and loved. She nearly killed us all, but I've been searching in my heart to forgive her, because I really did love her. You wouldn't have envied her at the end, Miyako. Be glad you are who you are."

"I wish I could be," she replied softly, her voice carrying over a tinge of bitterness, "but to him I wasn't."

: -: -: -: -: -: -:

She sat in front of the mirror, combing through her freshly washed hair, and halfway through she paused, and her eyes met up with the cold ones reflected in the mirror. "Not bad," she murmured to herself. Lips thin needed color, but perhaps the wearing of so much red had begun to give them the natural appeal. There were days she could look into the glass and actually be semi-pleased with the way she looked. After showers she was particularly refreshed, letting the cool water wash over her and wash away memories that haunted her otherwise.

There were times she could barely look at herself in the mirror. The house was new, her husband, with his handsome salary moved them out of their old apartment immediately after Kari's death, to avoid the old memories. _'I wouldn't be here without Joe.'_

Staring intently into the glass, red eyes meeting up with one another, she wondered if she were truly looking into the face of a murderer. _'Perhaps the woman in the glass is,'_ she thought sadly, as she brought the comb down and placed it onto the desk._ 'Perhaps I'm only living as my reflection now.'_

Of course she knew that it was impossible. That day she had felt so much hate and acted on only her emotions which were leaving her all at once. Then she went home, to Joe's warm, safe arms. She was safe, here. Something to live for. She had escaped. She had lived. She was the ultimate betrayer. "I didn't mean to…" the words slipped from her lips, a gentle whisper.

Even yet, she was haunted by his words of the past, and they would whistle around her ears, sometimes seeming loud, or his soft, low whisper, a caress, _'you're not a murderer, Sora,'_ and sometimes it was her husband saying that, comforting her over Kari, or it was Tai. How would _he_ feel, knowing that she was the direct cause of his prized sister's death, not to mention his own? But he had wanted that, he had relished each moment of his death with a smile. She couldn't tell Joe. He was too good, too honest, and it would break his heart to know that little boy whom he called 'son', his miracle, was really not his. That he was the son of a man she had long loved and lost killed in a moment's anger and then felt peace, of a haunting kind, something she would never escape from...Kojiro Kido, who in actuality was turning into the image of his real father.

__

'But I'll be damned if he turns out like him-'

"Mommy!" he son's jubilant cry shattered her train of thoughts as she turned to look at him, thankful for the brief interruption. He was holding out a piece of paper with a number of drawings on it, ['Our own little _Pablo_' she and her husband would often joke], but in truth, little Kojiro was very artistic. Very simple, and yet elaborate. A prodigy, already, at his age…Sora felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards. An actual smile. Tai would be proud of his son. _Joe's son_, she corrected herself. _Only Joe's._

"Come here, Pablo." And she lifted him onto her lap, and they looked into the mirror together. 

"We have the same eyes," the little boy observed. He was right; of course, their eyes were the same. Only his reflected innocence, while hers reflected secrets never told and guilt never unleashed. His hair was mahogany colored and was even beginning to spike up in that unnatural habit that Tai's did, and she made a mental note to give him a haircut before he grew into liking his hair like that. Sometimes she would see his face taunting her.

__

'Tell the truth Sora. Tell them all what really happened. How I…died, you know, and how you killed my sister. And how you conveniently forgot to tell your husband that you loved me, that you and I shared a night together, which still affects you today. Tell him how much it meant to you, how our destinies were inter-linked and yet apart. Tell him how you failed me.'

She never answered him, but on those days she would punish herself in some way, conveniently forget to eat or inflict pain upon herself when she knew no one else was home.

"When will Daddy be home?" He asked innocently, like he asked every day. Of course, all days were different. Joe always tried to be home early, tried to do so many things with his son as she stood off to the side, watching them, wondering if this really was to be.

If Joe really were her miracle, her saving-grace, would she ever love him in the same passionate way that she still loved…? _'No,'_ she thought to herself. _'I can't love him anymore. I can't. He's gone now and this is all I have. I have to love him. I need him.'_ and yet thinking this made her feel incomplete, and her son looked up at her, "Mommy?" but she didn't reply.

A sound at the door made her son jump out of her arms and she shook her head with a jolt as she heard his excited cry as he threw himself at Joe. "Daddy!"

And she could hear Joe's quiet laughter, and see his smile, his true smile, of uttermost joy, and she wondered how he could go around seeming so complete, how the two of them could go on living their lives in that same house while she remained in the same place. It was better that Joe was Kojiro's father, instead of Tai, she thought, as she smoothed down the folds in her light pink cotton robe as she stood up and walked out to the hallway.

"Daddy, you're late today." the child was saying, and Joe was looking at his watch, an amused look on his face. "What makes you say that?"

"Cause it's dark." _Cawse_. Sora smiled. Kojiro replied in such a way it was hard to forget he was only two. It was a game that he and Joe would play. Joe laughed, "Well, it's also raining. You know what rain is?"

"Water from the sky." _Waa-tah_. She felt like crying. Crying for thinking that she was incomplete with this. It was just so natural, so right. She had to settle down, she had to love her husband. It was the only way. She had to stop living in chains, shackled from the past. Moving forward had been hard, but she strove for three years, and hell would have to freeze over for her to lose this chance, and her beautiful son. She gave Joe a small kiss on the cheek. "Good day?"

"Better now," he replied with a wink. Sora winked back. "I'll go get dinner." It was something she always insisted on, getting dinner. Perhaps it was because of her nature to take care of people she cared about, and her instincts about family still setting in. Love was supposed to come naturally. There still could be time for that. Maybe her crest did have a meaning.

Love never had been so needed.

And even now the embittered eyes of the past turn away.

: -: -: -: -: -:

__

There's nowhere to run

I have no place to go

Surrender my heart, body and soul

How can it be you're asking me to feel 

The things you never show

: -: -: -: -: -:

Takeru didn't know how to answer her. What could he say, to help her feel better, to help her let her feelings rest, to move on, if only slightly? She must be feeling guilt too, he thought. Not only because she wished she were more like Kari. If she were, Daisuke might have never left her twisting in the wind. Utterly forgotten. No one to ease her pain or call her name. Loneliness was a dulling pain that numbed the senses. Just alone in the darkness, and he looks and sees the tears clinging to her cheeks as they slip from her light brown eyes, though it's hard to tell, due to the rain and her glasses, and the droplets are scattering with ease.

"Daisuke. You must hate him," she said finally, and his surprise was revealed in his face. 

"I don't hate him, Miyako." Takeru said quickly, to her surprise, without a trace of anger in his voice, but more of regret. "Not after all that happened. I forgave him, and wished him peace. He didn't deserve this. Neither did you. I'm sorry you lost him, and I know he's sorry too. Kari was acting under her own will to destroy each one of us, to play us, like puppets. Those of us who are still alive still suffer. We have nothing to go on, nothing to look forward to."

"Trapped in our misery," she said softly under her breath, and then caught his eyes as hers blazed into his with a look of possible yearning, there was a hunger, a deep need inside of her that could not be satiated. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

He offered her a small sad smile. "I don't either. And I've been alone for a long time."

"Can I buy you dinner?" she said quickly, then stopped again. "There I go, scaring away probably the best thing that happened to me today." _Stragglers left alone often turn to each other for comfort._

Takeru found himself able to laugh with her. "I'm not the best," he said. "But I'd love to buy you dinner. It's time that we did something about our burdens. Something _spontaneous_."

"Let's go get blind, stinking, drunk." She laughed, the bitterness leaving her voice.

Noticing this, he reached his hand out, and she took it, and was an electrified pull between them both. "Whatever you say, Yolei." And a smile he gave her.

"My pleasure." Miyako smiled back, and they began to walk away from Kari, away from Daisuke and the memories, leaving them to be tossed around by the autumn showers, to be washed away, cleansed to they became pure again, and good.

At least, that's what they hoped.

: -: -: -: -: -:

And over by the grave, the flowers already seemed to wilt, their beauty slowly being absorbed by the morbidness. The grey mist overhead flickered and then solidified, and was a form, woman-like, and it slowly dropped to the ground in front of the grave, bending its knees slightly as it touched the ground, then rose, standing unsteadily on small feet. 

Leaning down again to pick up the yellow flowers, which once the smoky colored hand touched them instantly withered, became brown, dropped again to the ground. But the hands holding them became less smoke-colored. The form faded again, however it was clear that it had been there the whole time, as triumph seemed to surround its hazy aura as it drifted backwards, resting against the stone.

Words unspoken and unheard if not the wind blowing with careful ease, dragging the leaves around the stones, dragging the remnants of the deadened flowers away as they slowly disintegrated. 

Somehow, monsters do survive to taunt us…whither from beyond the grave or nay…

The wind whispers softly to whoever will listen.

: -: -: -: -: -:


	2. Yesterday's Ghost

You Belong To Me

Learn To Fly

__

Two - Yesterday's Ghost

: -: -: -: -: -:

I could lose my heart tonight

If you don't turn and walk away

'Cause the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

'Cause I could take you in my arms 

And never let go

: -: -: -: -: -:

They often took turns in the kitchen. Today was Matt's morning, and Mimi sang to him with her sweet contralto voice. Matt was cooking omelets, which was a treat, considering how they had been living on a day-to-day basis. Not much time for materialistic things, but enough to have decent enough living conditions. The apartment itself was small. They bought it because it was in their price range, but that was probably the only reason they bought it.

It had been grey. Grey colored walls and floors, a tiny living room, mediocre kitchen and one bedroom. Out of all of these, the bedroom was probably in the best shape. Matt and Mimi were both determined to make it work. They painted the apartment first, the living room ended up a dark grey-ish blue but looked much better than originally, the bedroom was painted white, and the kitchen a slightly golden aura. They kept the couch but in the places where it was threadbare they threw throw pillows and to grace the mantelpiece some figurines. They did get a new bed, however, and polished up the old table, which sat in the small dining area.

Mimi knew that given her own personality, she should have been majorly depressed, but she found the situation doable and comfortable. They didn't need a fancy house, fancy jobs. Their clothes weren't as good but she managed to fix them up nicely, so she helped work as a seamstress at a boutique. Yamato got a job in the diner that was across the street from their apartment. 

"And to think, we both lived for higher standards." Mimi had joked once. But that was at one of their lowest times. Matt had smiled at her then, saying that she certainly had changed a lot. 

"Only because of you." She replied. And now here they were; Matt finished cooking and Mimi took her plate and sat back down. He smirked. "I have the afternoon shift today, think you can manage a late dinner?"

"I think I could manage. Or we can always go across the street and eat out." She replied smirking back, and they both laughed and started eating. Matt couldn't stop himself from watching her. _'It's hard to believe we've been through so much. Everything is just now and the past is gone, sometimes I forget it even happened.' _Yet it was real; he was in his favorite jeans that had gotten worn, and a faded T-shirt. She was dressed similarly, one of his old shirts and black leggings. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail except the ones that escaped from the band. No makeup and a silver locket on a chain enhanced her neck. Yet she was still Mimi, and no matter how her outer appearance would seem he would always find her beautiful.

They weren't married, but Mimi called herself Ishida because 'before I found you I was without an identity.' On days like this, when everything was going right, he didn't want to spoil anything. But there was a question that had been on his mind for some time, as much as the wedding question and the baby question. There was simply no way they could have a baby now, in the state of living that they were in. or maybe it would make everything better. It would be better.

"Mimi, what do you think about going back to Japan?" he asked. The reason he asked was because his brother had been on his mind for some time, and they never called anyone to tell them how they were or where they were. Parents. Relatives. Old friends, if they could still be called that, if they even existed. 

"Japan?" her voice was surprised. "That's something I haven't really thought about. Why, Matt? What's there for us in Japan than there isn't for us here? We've managed to start over. Are you not happy?"

"Calm down Meems, it was just a question," And they both burst out laughing. He expected her reaction to be as much. "No, I'm serious. Even just for a small visit. To see how my brother is holding up and all. I really felt so, so sad for leaving him and not giving him any word. What kind of brother am I, to find my own life while his remained shattered? I don't even know if I remember the phone number. And yes, I am very happy."

"Well, if it would make you happier…" her words trailed off thoughtfully. Had it been that long? When she last saw Takeru, he had just taken a bullet meant for her. How selfish had she been, not to even wonder or inquire about him? "Matt…I'm such a horrible, horrible person."

"No, you're not. And we're both at fault, for not letting him know."

She seemed to consider this. "Do you have vacation time saved up?"

"Two weeks. That should be enough. What about you?" they both were finished, so he took the plates and dumped them into the sink. Mimi got up.

"No, let me. I think I have about the same. When should we leave?" Matt stepped back, and she turned the water on and began rinsing the dishes.

"How about Friday night?"

: -: -: -: -: -:

She was alone. Sora opened one eye and peered at her surroundings. Yep, definitely alone. Joe much have had another one of those unavoidable shifts… it was semi-dark now, as the shadows rose and the clouds were swept away by the wind. 

That wasn't too peculiar. These storms had become more frequent in coming. She pushed the hair out of her face and sighed, sitting up and placing her feet on the floor. Might as well get up and make some coffee.

She rubbed her eyes to look at the clock. It was four thirty AM. She flinched. Well, early to bed, early to rise. She yawned, stretched and strolled around the room, pulling on a flimsy cotton robe. She was a doctor's wife. She should be treating herself better. Maybe get a manicure or a pedicure or something, she thought, staring at her fingernails, or maybe a masseuse. 

A breath of air escaped her lips. A hot bath, or a cup of coffee? It was still early. So early. She yawned, and stretched again. Something felt oddly strange, and different. She left her room, and peeked into the one next door, occupied by little Kojiro. He was still asleep, soundly, his nightlight glowing ever so faintly only because she was worried about too much darkness, thought he liked to convince her otherwise.

She pushed her hand softly through his small mass of hair and made a quick note to get his hair cut as soon as possible. Her hand nearly shook. He was almost the exact image of his father as he slept, except for the redness, which most certainly came from her side of the gene pool. _'Oh Tai, you would be so proud of your son, your perfection. Maybe if you hadn't rejected me we could all be together now._' A sigh escaped her lips once again. "No, no, I swore yesterday that I was going to love Jyou. Even if it kills me, I will love Jyou."

Or maybe she was just in the denial again. The denial, the denial. And the fact that Joe could never become a father, but he never knew… She almost went to have this child aborted because of Tai's rejection and death. His death…his death… something about the way he held her in his glance before his eyes closed and they left him. She shivered, letting the memory of that night overtake her. Such cruelty was in his heart. She hadn't even understood it…and then she let Matt and Mimi escape because she couldn't go through with completing Tai's mission. His mission was her mission; but she failed him once again.

And Kari, now dead, too by her hand, if only accidentally. Kari wanted to run into the street. Kari planned her death this way. It was only by chance that Sora happened to be the poor fool who ran her down… she stepped away from her sleeping son and fled out of the door, closing it again before running back to her room. Death was all around her and there was no escaping.

Joe's voice on the answering machine: "I'm sorry honey that I had to leave…there was an emergency. If you need me, you know where I am… I just hate leaving you like this."

__

Like this. The words echo, and a small smile found it's way to her lips. _'Oh honey, you just don't know how bad it is. Maybe I'm stupid for thinking it's all over.' _She turned her head to look at the open window.

Two eyes stared back at her, before slowly disappearing and retreating into the stillness of the oncoming morning. The breeze sent a cold chill to her body as she ran to it, looked out, then closed it abruptly. _'Oh god, could it be?'_

But it was gone now. He was gone now. She was just hallucinating again. Or so she told herself, for, how could it be true?

: -: -: -: -: -:

He awoke to the sun glancing across his face. Yesterdays storm seemed to drift away at last, and today he was free and safe from the guilt. It all felt different somehow; as if he were awakening from some endless dream that he was forced to relieve day after day, only now it was gone and forgotten. He wondered if it was how his brother had felt, when he rediscovered himself. Yet the sun did not bring comfort, it brought pain, he was forced to close his eyes due to the pain striking him in the forehead…A headache, of all things, on his day of independence. Where was he, anyway?

Carefully he opened one eye and glanced around, not recognizing his surroundings. It was a room, but the quality hinted at otherwise, like a motel, maybe. That was it, a motel. Yesterday's events were still puzzling to him, as he racked his mind to try and figure out what had brought him there… he opened his other eye and realized that he was not alone, and laying on his chest he saw first her hair, lavender and in complete disarray. 

Then he realized that they weren't even on the bed, but were rather more awkwardly on the floor, not an inch of clothing on their bodies, half covered by a sheet that was painstakingly moist. He blinked again, the pain beginning to subside. He looked at her hair, and then her face, peaceful in tranquility as she lay in a moment of undisturbed slumber. Her name escaped him at first, but he knew who she was; she was Miyako, and he had held her.

The odor of alcohol undoubtedly hung over them in the air, a cloud of the past. They had met again at the graveyard, vowing to bury the past. And then they went off and did something spontaneous.

__

"It's time that we did something about our burdens. Something spontaneous."

"Let's go get blind, stinking, drunk."

Dinner had been in that self-same restaurant that he had taken Kari to about two and a half years prior, that self-same day when Daisuke became intertwined within their problems, only he was too blind to see it. And Miyako had to go home alone that day, in the rain, untouchable.

"Yolei… I'm so sorry." He whispered, wondering how he was going to get out of this situation if she woke up. What would he say? What if she remembered more, or he didn't? How could they have done something like this…? And even as his thoughts overtook him she had already begun to stir. Her exposed skin shriveled at his touch as they both lay there, blinking in the light. She moved first, lifting her head abruptly and looking into his face. "Oh my god…" the words dropped from her lips, shock evident in her eyes. "Did we…?"

Of course it was a stupid question to ask, she scolded herself, feeling awkward and stupid. The nights events had been such a blur, that even though they thought they left the past behind them it really went with them, and in reawakening their grief they were two souls clinging to each other to rediscover what was lost. She felt the blood rise in her face and she could barely meet his eyes, but she noticed that his cheeks were the same crimson in his embarrassment. "This is my fault…I am so sorry." They both began apologizing, stupidly and awkwardly, before just laughing at their predicament, then it grew silent again.

"We must have gotten plastered," She remarked. They were both up now; Miyako had wrapped the sheet around her and began gathering her clothes. "You can have the shower first." She remarked softly, her cheeks still rose tinted. _'God he is handsome,' _she thought. They were so drunk; that they overlooked everything that they just discovered_. 'He's probably so embarrassed by me he never wants to speak to me again!'_ Miyako sighed, and she heard him turn on the water and let it run. Wash away this night along with the others, it never happened.

And already he was out of the shower, with a damp sky blue towel clinging to his midsection. The silence was awkward between them. "I'm…done." He said, and she nodded, words failing her, unable to resist looking at him, but then deliberately looking away, red creeping across her face. They passed each other as he headed for the room and she the other, dropping the sheet as she stepped in and closed the door. "I'll go find out where we are," she heard him call out. 

"Okay," She replied. The water was cool and refreshing, but she knew that she could not wash away that night and her thoughts…her thoughts which would now have to be buried and let burn and torment her secretly inside. She would remember what happened, and then remember to enjoy it, because it wasn't probable that she could ever have Takeru again, and perhaps she was just plain lucky now. 

She didn't want to think that she was desirable. They were drunk, so obviously it had to take a few drinks in order to get men to notice her. _Well, get them drunk at least, _she thought, trying to lather up the cheap motel soap as best as she could. _'The soap… his hands touched this soap…'_ and it slipped out of her hands. At this point, she didn't know what to feel or how to face him again after she got out of the shower. Maybe she should just stay here, letting the water, which now made her aware of just how old the systems, were. She shuddered. Best to leave, and forget it ever happened.

Miyako wrapped the other towel around her body as best as she could after drying herself off, and carefully opened the door. The room was empty. Sighing with relief she stepped out and ran straight for her clothing. Her lavender hair hung limply about her shoulders; there was a blow dryer near the mirror. _'Perfect,'_ she thought.

Twenty minutes later she was almost completely dressed. As she was buttoning her orange colored blouse Takeru reentered, but he hung back for a few minutes and she didn't hear him, until he cleared his throat to make his presence known.

"Why T.K.," Miyako laughed, watching the red creep into his face. "Were you watching me?"

"And if I was?" he replied, laughing. "Your back was turned. I didn't see anything."

"No matter. You've already seen enough," and her words trailed off as the silence hung between them.

"Yolei…" Takeru began, and he looked down. "About last night…I want to apologize."

"If anything, I should be the one who's apologizing. Just because we're twenty-two doesn't make it okay for us to go on a drinking binge like we did. It's unhealthy and it was my idea, anyway. We were both feeling pretty low and now we're torturing ourselves because we don't know how to say what we're thinking."

Takeru laughed. "Well, you were always good at that. Kari would always keep secrets from me, but you're pretty open." At these words he stopped, noticing her cringe slightly at the mention of Kari - _'idiot'_ his mind screamed. "I mean… see, here I go, sticking in the other foot. You're good with expressing yourself. I'm not. So tell me what exactly is on your mind because there is something you want to say."

And yet, tempted even with the sincerity in his blue eyes once again she found words failed her, as this was a rare chance for this to happen. There was so much to say to him and yet there wasn't. How could she say anything without sounding stupid? She pressed her lips together, to be certain that none of her thoughts would slip out accidentally. He sighed.

"Yolei…I'm sorry to put you on the spot. I normally don't say what's on my time because I'm afraid of how anyone would react. You're probably wishing you were as far away from here as possible and that you never want to see my face again. I understand if that's the case. But either way let me know. I don't know whether to open my heart up entirely, or if this is another illusion, or if by some stroke of fate our paths were crossed. But you must know something. Say something. Anything! Tell me to go to hell, anything!" and he was pleading now, and she still was silent, and finally she could stand it no longer, and ran from the room, tears streaming down her cheeks as she went, leaving him standing there.

__

'You… you idiot! You did it this time, you really did it!' he chastised himself, staring out the door, wanting to run but finding that he couldn't. _'I don't want to hurt you Yolei, but I sense that I have. And it's because maybe I'm not ready enough. I can't escape from Kari, even though she's gone. She won't let me go, no matter how much I think otherwise. She always holds me down._ "Kari, WHY?!" he shouted in his exasperation. "Why is it so hard for me to get away from you, and love freely, when I put you to rest forever last night?"

And for a moment, he thought that he heard her laugh.

But it was only a moment, and in the instant it vanished, making him wonder if now his ears were playing tricks on him. He looked once more to the open door and ran towards it.

__

'I'm… I'm coming, Yolei. We can sort this thing out.'

: -: -: -: -: -: 


	3. How it Feels to be Free

Learn to Fly

Learn to Fly

__

three - how it feels to be free

: -: -: -: -: -:

__

Couldn't see how much I missed you  
couldn't see how much it meant  
now I see my world come tumbling down  
now I see the road is bent

If I only once could hold you   
and remember how it used to be  
If only I could scold you  
and forget how it feels to be free

: -: -: -: -: -:

The air was a surrounding, dampening mist. Kojiro was playing near his mother's feet at first, with a small soccer ball that he was attempting to kick around. Sora smiled down at her son, mostly because of her son's interest in sports when she had herself lost interest oh so long ago. She found herself humming an old tune, the words forming in her mind.

__

'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you, so please don't take my sunshine away…'

She cringed a moment, realizing that this song was one that her mother would often sing to her when she was of that age. She had found herself singing it to Kojiro a few times in her off-key voice. Shaking her head she returned her gaze to him. Yet the words weren't true. She couldn't love this boy as if he were she own. He was more Jyou's son than her own flesh and blood.

"Don't go too far, Kojiro." She said to him, finding a reason to smile if only for a second as he finally managed to kick the ball a few feet away and toddled after it, tripping over his shoelace. But he didn't cry, but smiled back, fiddling with the laces and tucking them into his shoe. 

A familiar stranger walked by and picked up the ball. 

"This yours?" He asked Kojiro, who smiled. Recognition seemed to settle in the young man's face as he raised his head to look at Sora. "Is that your mom over there?" He asked the boy, who nodded.

"Yep." The man handed the ball back to him and walked over to where Sora was sitting. 

"Sora?" He asked. She looked up from her book with a look of surprise.

"Izzy! Wow, it's been ages." She said, recalling the last time she had seen Koushiro, pale faced in a hospital bed. _'Well, well, if it isn't the miracle patient.'_

__

The halls were grey and white, depressing colors to her. But she knew that she would be here a lot, visiting her spouse-to-be. She figured that she would go in and check on the boy, Koushiro. It would give her another reason to be there.

She saw him. He was so pale. 'You didn't deserve this, Koushiro,' She thought, and patted his hand. 'But as things go, you need to stay asleep until everything is over.'

No, there had been that other time at Hikari's funeral. He was there, she saw him, but didn't want to catch his gaze, knowing her small part in all that had happened to him. And yet she still felt sorry for him in some strange way.

"Sora?" He asked tentatively once again, a little startled by her response. He did see her at the funeral, her radiant red hair covered with a black scarf, clinging pathetically to her husband's arm. She seemed pretty weak then, and he wanted to talk to Jyou, and had a small conversation with him before leaving and he hadn't seen the family since. He had been able to walk away unscathed without leaving anything behind, except closure, and the knowledge that his life was his and his alone. Perhaps he had liked Kari in some way…but it was too late for her now. Too late. And yet she had been pretty and intelligent. 

"Sorry, I just drifted off for a minute. Care to sit down?"

He seemed uncomfortable, but sat down near her anyway. "So. How's life?"

"Life's just dandy," Sora slid the book into her bag. "I haven't seen you in ages," she said, repeating herself. "What have you been up to?"

"Getting myself back on track," He said, patting a briefcase next to him. "Never leave home without it."

A small chuckle escaped Sora's lips, though the words didn't seem to ring true. She was a master at disguising herself. "Good for you, I'm glad to hear it."

"Your son, I guessed?" Koushiro asked, as they both glanced out to the boy who was still where he was, staring curiously at the ball.

"Yep. That's my Kojiro." She half-sighed; pushing strands of copper colored hair away from her eyes.

"You must love him very much."

"Of course I do." She replied semi-indignantly, but he didn't seem to notice and she relaxed.

"How's Jyou?"

"He's just fine, and proud of his son," As she said these words she looked down into her lap, twisting her hands awkwardly. _'This feels so strange, but it shouldn't. Maybe it's because I haven't seen Koushiro in years. Maybe it's because saying the words "Jyou" and "son" together make me want to cry. Tai, I wish that you could be proud of your son. Sometimes I wonder if you really wanted it to be this way.' _"So how have you been doing, Izzy?"

"I've been okay, I guess. Trying to put my life together but not feeling quite 'together', though I've never really needed much except my wits and laptop."

Sora laughed, a hollow sounding-one. "Knowing you, that doesn't seem too off the mark."

"You feeling okay, Sora?" Koushiro asked, concerned. Maybe it was because of his new appreciation of life that he was able to feel comfortable while talking to her.

"Yeah," she looked up at him and plastered on one of those fake smiles she made trademark, though at the moment it didn't seem too realistic. She turned her head forward and gave a little half-gasp. "Kojiro?"

"Huh?" Koushiro turned his head swiftly. The child had just been there less than a minute ago…maybe it was because children were easily distracted. Sora had leapt to her feet, crying out, "Kojiro!"

Nothing.

"We'll find him, Sora," Koushiro said, who had leapt to his feet as well, his eagle-eyes darting around quickly. "You know kids at his age like to explore. He couldn't have gone too far."

: -: -: -: -: -:

The ball rolled to the feet of a man whom the little boy had seen a few times, if only in brief glimpses. The boy wondered if he had even seen him in his dreams at one point. The man smiled upon seeing the ball, though Kojiro hung back a few steps, watching him pick up and examine it.

"I know you're there," The man spoke, his eyes passing quickly over the face of the boy, who found his voice to be a tired, once-commanding voice. His hair a dark ravenous chocolate, his eyes dancing coals tinged by fire. "Don't be afraid, I wouldn't hurt you."

Kojiro took a few shuffling steps forward and stared up into his face; the man smiled.

"You look so much like her," he ruffled a largish hand through the small mass of hair, though his eyes seemed to pause as a flash of hatred seemed to flash through them, then replaced with a sort of self-satisfied glance. "So much like me…" 

He stopped ruffling the boys hair. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Uh-uh," The boy said, shaking his head. "But I should know you…right? I've seen you before."

"I know you have. I've been watching after you for quite a while. I can't stay for too long now, now is not the time for us to talk, and fully understand each other. Just do me one favor, Kojiro. Don't tell your Mommy that you've seen me," he gave him back the ball. "Some day, you'll become a fantastic soccer player. It's in your genes, son. You're a Kamiya. Maybe you can't understand me now, but you will, someday."

"Kamiya," the boy struggled with the pronunciation. "Is that a club?"

The man laughed, once again tousling the child's hair. "Yes. A _special_ kind of club. You and I are the only ones left, now, to preserve it. But I'll tell you later. About your right to destiny. But I must go now."

And as the boy watched with widening eyes the figure slowly stepped back into the trees, his eyes glinting one last time before he turned, ultimately obscured by the shadows. Yet the child stood there, holding the ball, wondering to what extent he could what it all had meant, wanting to find out more about the mysterious stranger. Yet he was too young to understand fully.

__

'You're a Kamiya…' the phrase wouldn't let his three year old mind alone. A secret club that he belonged to… it would be fun. And he knew that he mustn't tell his Mom, because she wasn't a Kamiya… she did not belong…_ 'But what about Daddy?' _he should tell daddy, but this seemed something that was too important, a secret that he had to keep to himself, even from the ones he loved…

"Sora! I found him!" he heard a male voice call, the one that belonged to the person that his mom had met in the park before he wandered off.

"Kojiro!" and suddenly his mother was there, tears streaming down her face as she wrapped her arms around him and he was pulled into her grasp. "What were you doing all the way over here?"

"Playing." His words were muffled against her chest and finally she let him breathe.

"I told you to stay near me, honey." The last word added as an afterthought.

"Sorry." He looked down and began digging in the dirt with the left big toe of his sneaker. Sora turned to Koushiro, relief flooding her. 

"Thanks for finding him."

"You're welcome." Koushiro shrugged, and they walked back towards the bench.

"I fee like such a bad mother," Sora admitted to him. 

"You aren't. I sense that you love him, very much, and if you still have the same instincts that you did ten years ago you'll be fine." Koushiro smiled this time.

__

'Or maybe I won't, Koushiro, just maybe I won't.'

: -: -: -: -: -:

__

'She couldn't have gone that far.' The blonde paused in his running a moment to catch his breath. What was he doing, chasing after Miyako like that? She couldn't talk to him, besides.

__

'I begged her to say something and she didn't.' he thought, then he stopped to look at his surroundings. He was at the park. The park. He closed his eyes for a moment. The essence of the sweet innocence of youth. It was too late for innocence now.

"Hey! Takeru?" A voice called out to him, and he raised his head in surprise, recognizing the voice.

"Izzy? Is that you?" he spotted the man waving him over and he changed his course. "Well, you look like your life has gone a lot better than mine has…" he then saw who had been sitting next to him, then shifted uncomfortably. "…Sora."

"Takeru." He found himself flinching at the sound of her voice. He had seen her at the funeral…and the hospital, when she had come into his room and spoke to him although she believed he couldn't hear her. He remembered the days preceding that so well…him trying to protect Mimi, the girl he would always carry a torch for, and the sound of Sora's angry voice before she fired the shot. He absently raised his hand to his shoulder, the wound healed, almost forgotten.

__

"Tai, you get her. We can't have any loose ends. I'll take care of TK."

Taichi went over to Takeru and pushed him onto the ground, as he was just struggling to his feet. "I expect you not to say one word of this-" he said menacingly; but Takeru managed to be firm.

"I will say what I damn please. You two won't get away with this."

"No one would believe you if you tried. We all know you have this crush on Mimi, and want to stick it to Jyou because Sora left your brother twisting in the wind." A hurt look crossed his face.

Takeru sighed; he had a feeling that Tai was right. And he had just told Matt that it was hopeless. Joe wouldn't believe him.

"I'm surprised you aren't letting me die here." Takeru winced at the pain.

"Well;" Tai said coldly, "I realize it is not up to me to determine your fate. Someone else shall handle that, no matter how much it would pleasure me in watching you die." He kicked him in the stomach and Takeru tried not to yell out in pain as Tai and turned to Sora. "You won't kill him, will you? Although nothing would give me more pleasure than to see Matt suffer, I don't want his blood on your hands. I may not love you, but I do care for you."

"Don't worry. Toss me your cell and go." Sora caught his cell-phone and watched as Tai ran after Mimi. Shaking her head, she dialed the police. "Hello...? Yes, I'm in the parking lot of the Odaiba Shopping center... A friend of mine has been shot... No... No, I didn't quite see who it was... His name is Ishida, Takeru..." The look on her face could make milk sour. "All right, I'll stay on the line..." She used her shoulder to hold the phone up to her ear and stuck the gun in her purse, stuffing the bag in behind it.

"Why are you doing this?" Takeru asked.

She didn't answer him.

Looking at her brought the entire memory back, and inwardly he cringed, imagining that look on her face, yet she was different, a mother now. Looking back he couldn't imagine Matt ever having a child with her…or realize how different she had become at the wedding. But he did want to talk to Koushiro, so he put the thoughts out of his mind. 

Koushiro was looking back and forth between them, noticing the tension. "…Anything wrong?"

"No, nothing at all." Sora replied, raising from the bench and lifting her son into her arms. "But I think that we'll be leaving now. It's almost time for Jyou's lunch break; we'll surprise him."

"Tell him I said hello."

"Will do," She threw one warning glance at Takeru as her eyes returned to Koushiro's face. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

And Sora was gone, and the two men were left in silence for a few moments. Koushiro seemed to be considering the tension, and suddenly his eyes widened.

"Takeru, I'm sorry, it's been a long two years. Maybe it was because so much was going on that I pushed what you had told me out of my mind. You didn't do anything about that shoulder, did you."

Takeru shook his head. "Nope. But I've pretty much forgotten it, and apparently so has she…it doesn't matter anyway. It's the past, and we are who we are now. She wasn't aiming for me, at any rate. I wasn't able to tell then and by the time Kari died it really didn't matter."

: -: -: -: -: -:

She had been running for a long time but she didn't know where to go. She felt foolish, even more than before. He wanted to talk, and she ran away from him.

They had both needed some solace and given it to each other and now they were being pulled in the same directions again. Away. Maybe the comfort was in vain only; it was there and now it was gone. For a minute she imagined his face looming in front of hers, the forbidden golden fruit of the Garden of Eden that she had willingly took. Yet bits and pieces of the night had drifted back to her and for a moment she ached, through the alcoholic haze she recalled the tenderness of his skin beneath her fingers.

Maybe now it would be the time to run to the one place where she could share her pain. The one who had left her and now was gone eternally from her and the one she hoped that one sweet day they might have a second chance. The grass became lush and the gates to the cemetery loomed ahead. She had left here the night before in hopes for a new start, yet she was pulled again by an imaginary rope that was tied firmly around her abdomen. A sharp pain burned in her forehead, probably because of yesterday's alcohol intake, and she found herself staggering forward, past the gates.

She fell to her knees in front of his headstone, kissing it, imagining his mahogany filled orbs to be there, hovering, and watching her. Yet she never knew if he wanted her the same way. If it even did cross him mind at all, and yet she was morning his loss. There was that kiss…was it really for a show, or for what he said it was. She remembered that kiss so well, so well, it wasn't very romantic, but he had pulled her forward a little and planted his lips on hers. 

Maybe because it came as a shock it didn't last longer. Maybe the taste of his lips seemed to fade because she had lost him, and now all she had was Takeru's essence clinging to her, refusing to go away. _'He couldn't want me anyway, and even if he did, I'm not good enough…but that wouldn't be right to say…though maybe I wasn't good enough for Dai either…that's why I couldn't hold on to him when I could have.'_

She turned, resting her back against the stone, her eyes looking upwards.

It was going to be a long day…


	4. I Wish You Were Here

Learn to Fly  
  
four - I Wish You Were Here  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
I dig my toes into the sand  
  
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket  
  
I lean against the wind  
  
Pretend that I am weightless  
  
And in this moment I am happy.  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
It had been a long time since he had last been here. The old apartment building, the strange familiarity of coming back to a place he hadn't called home in years, and it almost felt, as it never had been. Placing one of his trim hands into his pocket his fingers brushed against a set of keys that he hadn't used but always kept with him. The metal was cool in his hands as his fingers closed around it and he took his hand out of his pocket, and he glanced at the young woman next to him. "Are you ready?"  
  
She nodded as the wind tousled her ginger colored hair, blowing it in front of her face, her serene amber gaze comforting him. "It's now or never. We should just get it over with." The calmness that had developed around her over the years was one of the things he loved most about her; how they learned to become two different people from when they first met, to find new things to enjoy about each other.  
  
The key still fit in the lock, which was a surprise, insinuating that the locks hadn't been altered for over three years and that maybe his brother was still living there after all. "TK?" He called out, peering in, but was greeted by the chilling aura of silence and emptiness.  
  
"I guess coming early wasn't too bad of an idea. It gives us more time." He glanced around what had once been his old apartment with interest. It appeared intact, neat, and it was obvious that Takeru hadn't been there for some time, and it stirred the old brotherly worry that had once existed strongly within him but had faded as the years passed as they were obviously now two very different people.  
  
She could tell that he was worried somewhat. It had been over three years since they had last seen him; would it have had that much of a change of Takeru? Surely the two of them were free from some burdens, but this was entirely different. All that they had been running from would soon be rushing back at them again. Suddenly the old dream felt nightmarish. She watched Yamato as he surveyed what had once been his half of the room, virtually untouched, from the old guitar laying across the bed to his books, and his old notebooks in which he contained the old songs he had been working on and since abandoned.  
  
Of course he had his harmonica with him. It was his trademark; he would never leave it, and he kept it with him as some kind of memoir from the past. She often found the simplicity of it beautiful and intoxicating; and yet quietly relaxing, so she would feel safe. It had been something she first heard when she was ten years old and never thought would hear again.  
  
"Do you think he'll come back?" She asked softly, watching as he was going through the piles of old mail, some of which was addressed to him, untouched in perhaps the hope that he would return and be able to look at it himself.  
  
"He'll come back," The young man decided. "We can wait here until he does."  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
Her form lay undisturbed by the large stone tombstone, bearing the inscription, 'To Daisuke Motomiya with much love: he deserved so much more and died with honor.'  
  
She lay there for quite a while, asleep, as the morning drew on into the afternoon, and the heat of the day was full upon her, yet the shadow of the stone shielded her from becoming aware of it. Her body appeared rather fragile, as she lay wrapped up in dreams of the past, yearnings for what could have been. This is what made her vulnerable.  
  
The ominous mist that had been hovering near Hikari Kamiya's headstone crept along the ground, mist like in appearance, unnoticeable to the eye, save those who were observant, however, none of those were around. This mist, which thickened as it rolled along the ground, wilting everything in its path as it absorbed the energy, now rose slowly, rising up to the young woman's body, surrounded it in its entirety before sinking in with ease, and then vanished as if it had never been.  
  
Miyako yawned and opened her eyes to the radiance of the afternoon sun. She was feeling quite refreshed, almost feisty, that weariness from the morning departing. Her body felt lighter, somehow, her mood satiated. Remembering and continuing to yearn for the interesting breakfast that she had had in the morning, she only wished that she had more. Perhaps she would still have access to it; it wouldn't be much of a problem. She might tire of it though; or languish going too long without it. But that could be fixed easily. She pressed her hands to her lips and then pressed them onto Daisuke's headstone, making a silent vow to herself and maybe to him too; that she would succeed and not languish like this, 'and soon we'll have what we want'.  
  
"Miyako?" A voice called, and she turned her head around, the lavender hair whirling around her shoulders. "Is that you? What're you doing here?"  
  
"Who's there?" She replied, not recognizing the voice for a moment, taken aback at how hollow her voice seemed to sound, and also slightly discouraged that it hadn't been Takeru.  
  
"It's Ken." And now she could see the indigo haired young man walking towards her, next to him a shorter young man with gleaming green eyes, but she recognized him as well. Of course she did. Ken may have been a good friend, and perhaps she did understand his preference, and knew right away that he would never love her. Yet some strange new instinct was awoken in her as she drifted towards the pair.  
  
"Ken, Iori. What are the two of you doing in a place like this?"  
  
The green-eyed one exhaled intensely as his eyes stirred to look at the gravestones. "We come here every year to pay respects to my father and his brother. Now that we have friends here as well. it has become sort of a grim custom."  
  
"I never knew that, and I'm here a lot." Miyako inhaled sharply. "How come you never told me?"  
  
Ken shrugged. "We figured it was pretty much our business. How we truly connected on a spiritual level, that is."  
  
"You two really are the quiet types," Miyako laughed. 'Just like Koushiro,' something added in her mind, though she didn't understand where it had come from. "I don't understand how I was so lucky to at least have your friendship."  
  
'When you really want so much more, don't you? It's all there for the taking. Take, and then destroy. Until you figure what you really want.' The words were pressed into her mind strangely, as if she were seeing them unfold before her eyes inside of her mind, and suddenly her vision was obscured for a moment, and she was seeing everything entirely different. 'Why should I suffer when I can take all I can get?' she reasoned.  
  
"Miya, you okay?" Ken's voice was concerned. "It's not healthy to stay here the whole day. And something seems different about you."  
  
"Oh, it's nothing," Miyako tossed her mauve colored hair over her shoulder. "Just doing some thinking. And this is always the best place. Yesterday I thought I'd never have to come here anymore; today I realized that this is where my heart belongs."  
  
Ken and Iori glanced at each other. "That really doesn't sound like you."  
  
Miyako smiled, her tawny gaze hovering first on Daisuke's stone, the depressing slab of gray representing her new vow, then again at the two young men, each so handsome and deliciously tempting. How fun it would be until she could get what she really wanted. Something to calm the strange fever which was stinging her forehead, which could have been another after- affect, but she knew it wasn't. This fever could control her, but she would have to stay ahead of it, because everything she did from now on would bring her one step closer.  
  
"You're right. You're looking at the new Miyako Inoue."  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
After spending a good few hours of conversation, Koushiro finally left to go to his job, leaving Takeru alone to lean back and stare up into the sky. It had been a strange and peculiar day, strange in that he didn't know how it was going to end. Should he look for Miyako after all? Koushiro had proven a good sounding board, and told him to let it cool off for a few days, until his mind was cleared.  
  
"After all," He had said, "You aren't sure how you feel about her. You two clung together in a time of desperation, comfort. Maybe neither of you were ready. And remember you were drunk. You'll figure it out. Drink lots of water at least, try to let your head clear more. You deserve as much."  
  
"Thanks Izzy. You'd make a great philosopher, you know that?"  
  
The auburn-haired one smiled at this. "I guess these last three years have made me this way. Before I never was really interested in the workings of the mind in connection to the soul, but somehow computer science doesn't seem as important to me. It's your life. It's my life. We should be living it, instead of analyzing it. But it's also best not to rush into anything too quickly."  
  
He watched the leaves as they blew around, then pushed the ones that had fell into his blonde hair and admired the many colors, of rich reds and oranges and even those of bright yellow, and then looked up at the sky, which was a pale blue as the white clouds were rolling in again, yet the sun was bright on this autumn day as he tried to find some peace within himself that Koushiro seemed to find, but one that he couldn't. Maybe he should go back home. "Yes," he thought to himself. "Yes, I think I'll go home." It had been a few days since he had been, and there were things he had to take care of. His apartment wasn't too far from the park, and he would get a good walk out of it, besides.  
  
He had attempted to busy himself with college, but grew bored with it easily, finding no hope in that, just eternal tediousness. Perhaps once he discovered his vocation it would be easier. Yet the only thing that came to him was writing, and he didn't want to go the same path that his mother had went, wanting to stay the most away from her as possible. He missed the days when he was younger and free, and could wander the Digital World with his best friend. But the worlds were forever separated and besides, he had to learn how to deal with the harsh realities.  
  
She didn't have to die, though. For all that she put him through; she didn't have to die. No matter how much she changed. His light. She still hindered him from gaining his own life. Still haunted him even when he wanted her to disappear. It almost made him feel sorry for Sora. Maybe he did forgive the shot to his shoulder. It was just physical pain, and that eventually did recede.  
  
She was right though, she always was, he thought. She had her obsession; at least, to keep her feeling satisfied.  
  
Leaves were in his path and he kicked at them slightly, sticking his cold hands into his pockets, bending his head slightly against the wind.  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
The young man returned to the place where he had been keeping his residence, pleased to find his way out of the sun.  
  
He hated and despised the light now, for what virtue did that ever do for his sister? Yet she hated it too, and had let her soul become one with the darkness, because it was useless to fight it in vain.  
  
Who would have ever thought him to become the seeker of souls? Him, fearless, courageous, strong, independent.him? He laughed when he thought of it, the way he used to be. It wasn't that long ago. He had once been leader of the chosen children, chosen to be the leader, not the follower, to lead the struggles against the evils.  
  
He who was so least likely to become evil himself.  
  
A smirk crossed his lips again. He had a new purpose in life now. Evil wasn't birthed; it was the recycling of old spirits never vanquished, reusing their prey.requiring only fresh souls to work with. When they had taken his own he was at a point of desperation. It was perhaps this desperation, the necessity to become a hero.how ridiculous that seemed now. The only thing that was important now was securing himself so he could get exactly what he wanted.  
  
"Kojiro.and Mimi." He mused, the names delicate on his lips. "It won't be too long."  
  
He had waited long enough.  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
At least an hour or so had passed, and the two of them had made themselves comfortable by some means. Yamato had slipped into his old role as the older brother preparing a meal for his younger brother to surprise him when he came home. Mimi had found an old deck of cards and was lying on her stomach on top of Yamato's old bed, shuffling them as she prepared for another game of solitaire. The emptiness of the apartment made her tremble somewhat, at its quietness, its lack of life.  
  
The sound of jangling keys could be heard easily in this silence, as Yamato continued to cook in the kitchen, and Mimi looked up with surprise and quickly stepped inside of the kitchen.  
  
Takeru opened the door and it creaked slightly. For a moment he was unable to speak when he entered his apartment to the fresh scent of food cooking.he was reminded almost instantly of the days when Yamato would cook for them. After he disappeared take-out had been what he had been living off of, and day-to-day jobs. His current one he hadn't gone too in nearly a week, and probably lost it by this point.  
  
"Matt." He could hardly believe the name had crossed his lips, and suddenly his brother stepped out before him and he was gazing into the quieting dazzling blue. But to look into those startling eyes again, the ones that matched his so perfectly.  
  
"You're.you're." Takeru's words faltered, and he didn't know whether to be happy, angry, or to commit himself to some asylum. Either his over-active imagination was playing tricks on him, or his brother was actually standing there, in the same way he always would, even if looking slightly different.  
  
"Yes, TK." He swallowed. "I'm here."  
  
For a moment they stood there, as two strangers. Then without thinking the younger flung himself into the arms of his brother, and suddenly he was a quivering mess of blonde hair and tears. Yamato cradled his brother towards him, starting to cry himself. "I missed you, so much."  
  
"I thought you were dead, Matt;" Takeru's voice was a whisper. "I.I thought, you were gone. forever."  
  
Mimi watched the reunion from the kitchen archway, smiling slightly despite the tears that were forming in her own eyes. 'I wish I had some family to turn to.' But she was perfectly content in watching those two; it just seemed so wholesome, so right. Yamato glanced towards her, and stretched out his hand, pulling her into the warm embrace. And the three of them stayed that way, for what felt like a long time, and yet was cut short too soon.  
  
"Why did you stay away for so long?"  
  
"We had to start over again. We couldn't stay here. You were right, all along, and I was just a failure. Now we both have new jobs and new lives, and even though it's not what we're used to, it's just perfect TK." Yamato paused. "It's the city, and we work in a restaurant, and Mimi also works in a boutique, and we're always saving up, so we were able to pay for our trip here."  
  
"You and Mimi." Takeru smiled at her. "Married yet?"  
  
"Nope." Mimi giggled. "We want to wait until our future is at least secure."  
  
"Oh, don't be stupid," said Takeru, half-laughing. "It's been three years. You've been living together. How much more secure can you get?"  
  
Yamato shrugged. "It's just the way it is. But what about you.? The last time I saw you, you were in a relationship with Kari. I'm surprised she hasn't moved in. Or is that why you haven't been home?" He stopped speaking when he saw the pained expression reflected in Takeru's eyes and his face.  
  
"Kari's dead," He said flatly. "She had completely lost it, and was hung up over Jyou. She thought that to secure something with him, she had to kill us. Me, Daisuke, Koushiro. Daisuke ended up dead, distracting her so Koushiro and I could run away. And Miyako was in love with him all that time and it just broke her. Kari ended up getting hit by Sora's car, but we aren't supposed to talk about it."  
  
"Sora?" Mimi shivered, and glanced over at Yamato, who was clearly replaying what had been Taichi's last moments in his mind.  
  
"What happened to Sora?" He asked, trying to seem undaunted.  
  
"She and Jyou are still married. I just saw her in the park today. I haven't seen her since the funeral, nor gave her much thought since then. I had been struggling to find my own path and I really thought I needed you. Were you dead? That sort of thing."  
  
"Takeru." Mimi breathed. "I'm really sorry. About the last time that I saw you."  
  
The younger blonde smiled, for a moment. "My shoulder, you mean? I'd long forgotten about it. It pains me, sometimes, like it did earlier, but I will never regret it." For a moment he seemed to be in quiet reflection. "What about Tai? The bastard never showed up for his sister's funeral. Figured he was still chasing after you."  
  
Yamato glanced sharply over at Mimi, who was looking directly at him. Takeru witnessed the exchange, confused.  
  
"The only thing he will be chasing after," Yamato said decidedly, "Are fish. Let's leave it at that."  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
For some people, it was a beautiful day. Ken Ichijouji happened to be one of them, as he stood near the water's edge, oblivious to the things that occurred there in the past years. To him the water gave him an immense feeling of calm, and it made him feel good, not having that sensation for years.  
  
His companion also felt the same, looking out into the water. Ken smiled when he looked down into his face. The serene gaze in those green eyes was enough to make him melt. "You're too quiet."  
  
His companion smiled. "You know me. I like to get caught up in my thoughts, that's all."  
  
"I hope they're good ones," Ken laughed, and returned his gaze to the water. "Something's strange about Miyako. Have you noticed?"  
  
The younger nodded, absently picking up a few rocks and tossing them across the bank, watching them skim the waters surface before sinking to the bottom. "It's a strange feeling that I got. It's as if she has death on her."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ken raised an eyebrow.  
  
The ponderous one shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I have so many questions about it, but I don't think she's in any condition to answer. She seemed to be in a good mood; I guess that's what mattered."  
  
Ken shook his head. "It was as if she were trying to come on to me. And she knows about us."  
  
"The new Miyako Inoue," The younger mused, as the breeze blew through their hair, the dancing strands of indigo belonging to his companion bewitching him. He was an elegant structure of beauty, exquisite features notwithstanding. "I can see why she'd show some attraction towards you."  
  
Ken laughed. "I guess. But it's a waste of time on her part."  
  
His companion grinned for a moment, before his expression turned. "I feel as if we didn't finish with our respects. Should we go back, and finish this morbid day?"  
  
"Did I mention that I find your new method of speech highly intoxicating?" Ken asked with a smile as the two turned their backs to the glittering water and began walking away.  
  
His companion smirked. "And to think, that I once didn't want to trust you."  
  
"We were children then. It feels so long ago," Ken heaved a sigh as he put his arm around his friend. "It's getting chilly. We better get back there soon, before it gets too cold."  
  
"You're right."  
  
"Seeing Miya really put me on edge. I hope she's okay."  
  
"She probably is, knowing her." The younger chuckled as they continued strolling.  
  
: -: -: -: -: -:  
  
Back at her apartment, Miyako wandered around it, almost as a stranger. Feeling light and carefree, bound by some new purpose. She paused, as she looked in the mirror, surprised by her reflection. She could see a pale outline glow for a moment, before sinking in.  
  
"I will never drink again." She said aloud to her reflection, which mouthed the same words back at her.  
  
Or maybe she would, she reasoned internally. The first few drinks had tasted good; it was only after the next few fully encompassed her that she had become completely under the influence. She was surprised that she didn't feel ill. The strange fever and headaches were her only apparent symptoms, and as soon as she had gotten away from the light did they ease up.  
  
She stretched across her bed and closed her eyes, attempting to fall into a full, undisturbed slumber. Just to have one tranquil moment before going out into the world again. Without any interruptions. Who did she want? Daisuke, obviously. But he was gone now. Or was he? Perhaps there would be a way of contacting him again.  
  
But until him, there was always the notion of 'pure' Takeru, which she had already the satisfaction of corrupting. Was it satisfaction? No; she had been lucky. She flopped over in her bed again. Thinking was becoming too strenuous. She was confused and asking herself questions that she couldn't possibly answer.  
  
Until a different voice answered them for her. 


End file.
